


Lives of Duty

by I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies



Series: Soul on Fire [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, In which the Knight nail-fights yet another deity, Nightmare King Grimm - Freeform, Rituals, The Grimm Troupe, allusions to mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies/pseuds/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies
Summary: How fortunate that Ghost was used to doing things the hard way.
Relationships: Grimm & The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Series: Soul on Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556929
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	Lives of Duty

Ghost was not unfamiliar with the concept of servitude. Truly, it had been all they had known for most, if not all, of their life. To be born (or created) with a purpose in mind - singular and absolute - was familiar to them. So much so that looking upon Grimm as he was now, painted red and spewing crimson flames, they could recognize his servitude for what it was.

Snippets of journal entries floated through the knight's mind as they ducked under fiery bats and hurried away from burning pillars.

_"Burn the father, feed the child."_

Flames scorched Ghost's mask as they jumped too high between fireballs. The pain was a sharp, constant ache throughout their body. Chances to heal themself were so few and far between, they hadn't been free of injury for what felt like hours. Yet for as little as they were able to tend to themself, Grimm was beginning to look much worse off.

_"Burn away the Nightmare King."_

Pale red gouges in his shell glowed with the flame's heat, seeping blood with greater and greater frequency as the fight carried on. His movements were no slower or less vicious for them, yet the next time his claws caught Ghost alongside their chest...it didn't sting quite so badly. The sharpness and momentum of the taller bug's hand was responsible for the severity of the wound more so than his strength, it seemed.

By all accounts, signs of a difficult fight drawing close to its finale should fill Ghost with relief, or something approximating it. They hadn't come so far in their dream-bound battle with the Troupe's leader more than once before. More often than not, they would have been painfully jarred awake by now. Yet here they were, bathed in ominous pink and red light, surrounded by hungry gazes as they landed what felt like the hundredth blow to Grimm's slight body.

And for the first time that fight, he stumbled. With a gouged leg and uneven ground, the Nightmare King was unbalanced. Ghost could take the chance to heal, or to press their attack, or even gain some distance between them for a moment to think. Instead, they found themself acting on a newly common instinct when they wanted to better understand another bug.

The Dream Nail was not quick, as it rarely ever was, but it was quick enough. One swipe was all it took before an echo of an echo of Grimm's voice reverberated through the knight's head.

_"Heart of Flame..."_

There wasn't a moment to ponder the vague thought. Not right then, when Grimm had thrown himself to the air to summon geysers of fire yet again. Ghost circled the wounded king as scalding heat nipped at their heels. As soon as that threat ended, another one sprouted from the ground. It was a brief reprieve, just long enough for them to heal a little.

Their head bowed with concentration briefly, turning up right after to find glowing red eyes staring back. Not Grimm's, no, though similar. The eyes of the strange structure their foe had burst out of bore into them, seeming to almost pulse with a heartbeat.

 _"Stand before the Troupe's dark heart,"_ the passage had said.

Grimm's snarl drew Ghost away from their moment of thought, but it did not cause them to forget what they had only just realized. Weaving past flaming bats now, they shirked what would usually be a chance to attack again in favor of retreating backwards. Retreating, carefully but quickly, towards that pulsing, watchful structure.

The air seemed to grow even hotter the closer they got. What had already been an uncomfortable warmth was turning into a near painful heat radiating from the brown cloth. It was so intense that, even after Grimm launched himself into the air to rain balls of fire from above, the temperature didn't seem to shift. Perhaps it really was that warm, or perhaps the knight was too focused on taking advantage of the small window dodging that attack granted them.

Either way, the Nightmare King would reform in time to see Ghost drawing back a glowing nail. And with a commanded urgency, he would rush forwards a hair too late to prevent them from lashing into the Nightmare's Heart with the Dream Nail.

* * *

There was no way to describe what came next for Ghost as anything other than hectic, painful, and more than a little challenging. If Grimm had been fast, then whatever oddly-formed mass of fabric and fire they found themself facing was lightning-quick. Healing was a laughably distant possibility, as were the chances for extensive thought or any sort of planning.

All they had was reflex-driven dodging and split-second openings to attack. Many of which slipped by them as they struggled to remain intact. This could very well be their only chance, after all. If they failed here and now, Grimm might awaken, or take special care to prevent them from repeating the stunt that had brought them to the Nightmare's core. They had to treat this as their one and only opportunity to possibly put an end to the Troupe's servitude for good.

No, they couldn't afford to wake up now. They had to outlast the Heart, if that even was such a possibility. Outlast and wound it until it gave up its hold, either on the Troupe or on whatever definition of life it clung on to. Easier said than done when it had no small arsenal of fiery attacks.

How fortunate that Ghost was used to doing things the hard way.

* * *

Awaking from the dream was not a fast matter for Ghost. Where usually they would find consciousness and rush back into it, this time it felt as though they were slowly emerging from thick water. The mental exhaustion of fighting within dreams was always on par with the taxations of a physical battle. It seemed that the effort of fighting within nightmares was even greater.

With a heaving, silent breath, they slowly eased themself upright. As would be expected, their body was not nearly as tired as their mind. Standing proved no challenge. Restraining themself from tensing at the sight of Grimm awake and watching them was another matter.

Their first thought went to the fact that they were cornered. Their second went to the realization that the Troupe Master seemed just as worn down as they felt. Sitting rather than standing, it appeared as though holding his head high was the most Grimm could manage right then.

"So you have finally awoken, my friend..." Ghost didn't think it was possible for Grimm's voice to become any raspier, but they were very actively being proven wrong. "To make such a bold move, I suppose that it should be a surprise that you woke up at all after facing a foe much greater than I..."

Facing and winning, the knight thought, though of course they couldn't say. Not that it seemed necessary, as Grimm continued his whisper-quiet monologue.

"To think that one such as yourself could best the Heart. It seems only natural that one higher being would be vanquished by another, imperfect though one has been named."

If the comment offended them, Ghost didn't show it. Instead, they tipped their head as they realized that Grimm's voice was not only rougher, but also seemed to very nearly shake. They hopped down to the Troupe Master's side, staring up at him in concerned silence. They had no voice to ask their questions, or the option of expressions to show how they felt. All they could do was set a light hand on Grimm's shoulder and tilt their head once more.

"Worry not, my friend. I could not continue my servitude to the Heart, now that it is gone. Whether I desired to do so or not."

 _But do you?_ Ghost wondered, with another tip of their horns to show it. They leaned forwards just slightly, as if willing their question to be heard, and Grimm did not disappoint.

"So shortly after its defeat, it is hard to say if I would. I'm sure you understand, little vessel, what comes from a life of duty."

And they did. Deemed suitable for it or not, they were more than familiar with a life of duty, and just as intimate with servitude. If the infection were to vanish the very next day from no influence of their own, they could not fathom what they would think. What they would do. How they would feel.

But they don't believe that they would want to contemplate it alone.

With not a query or prompt more, Ghost lowered themself to sit at Grimm's side. They could feel his eyes on them; a silent question of his own, though it would go unanswered. Or perhaps their continued, quiet presence was an answer in and of itself. Either way, they weren't shooed out of the room or asked to leave.

Beside the former Nightmare King sat the knight, patient and unmoving, save for the slow forwards loll of their head. To fall asleep beside the bug who, up until very recently, was their foe was likely not a wise decision. But it was one Ghost made then, tired as they were. And it would not be one that they would regret, as they would discover upon a peaceful awakening some time later.

**Author's Note:**

> That awesome moment when you realize your whole life has been spent in what's essentially a mind-controlled cult, amirite guys?
> 
> (Let's pretend that I remembered Grimmchild's existence throughout the last half of the fic.)


End file.
